"Can people who hate you, ever love you?"
"People who hate you might specifically be the ones who love you."
Sequel of the book 'Under That Niqab' with a complete different story, but there will be few references.
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The echoes are hidden,
Am I in a...
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In daring dreams, I soar on high, Where crimson hues paint apple sky, Pulpy orbs, rebirthed and ripe, In fancied gardens take their flight.
Within my heart, a yearning bloom, A longing sweet, like spring's perfume, To touch, to hold, their beguiling grace, In dream's embrace, I briefly chase.
Shall I pluck them, fate unkind? Or let them wither, left behind? Between these choices, I must tread, With a heavy heart, my steps are led.
Beneath the boughs of contemplation, I ponder life's connotations, Why be confined to options two, When boundless paths might just come through?
A hidden door, a secret gate, A way to alter destiny's state, With eyes ablaze, I seek to find, A pathway from the heart to mind.
Fatigued, my spirit's wings now strain, Yet in me blooms a stubborn flame, To break the chains that choices weave, And grant me the freedom to believe.
No longer shall I bear this weight, Of choices dealt by hands of fate, Cruel offers, life's twisted art, Shall not confine my eager heart.
For in my dreams, a truth unfurls, That life's not just for chosen pearls, But every dreamer, fierce and true, Can sculpt a path that's solely you.
"Wow," a shaky breath escapes his lips in astonishment and stupefaction, as his eager hands probe for any data about the writer. Yumi says at the end of the thick off-white sheet of paper, no grade mentioned, dejected he fishes out his phone from the back pocket of his trouser and clicks a picture of the poem, for research purposes only, don't misunderstand him, okay?
There are voices from below, he recalls the gathering which was going to be held that day, must it be this day? His social battery is down!
Closing the book he keeps it on the table and lay his back down on the soft mattress., instantaneous relief spreading in his veins.
"Can sculpt a path that's solely you" he murmurs falling into the abyss, the depth of the poem consuming his vigorous nerves,
"What does the sole me want?" he thinks, his aims ambitions, and plans are very different from what was expected of him. Don't get him wrong his parents were absolute sweethearts, they would never let him choose what he doesn't desire to.
But the expectations, they were mutley wearing him down. He wasn't like Shayan, his younger brother, more pleasing energetic extroverted. Dusting spark of charms wherever he steps foot.
